The Blacklists
by littlexkiller
Summary: Set before, during, and after A Town Called Mercy, this is the story of how Kahler-Tek first met Kahler-Mas and Kahler-Jex. The soldiers had good intentions; the scientists didn't. Here we explore the human traits of greed, forgiveness, compassion, and remorse - and how the Doctor can't fix everything. T for violence and psychotic themes in later chapters.
1. Albeit Under Force

**_A/N: We begin with Kahler-Tek contemplating the value of his life back on Kahler, later we will switch to the past leading up to it, through the events of 'A Town Called Mercy'. SDI will be told entirely in first person; I feel like we can relate to Kahler-Tek more that way. I'll open every chapter with relevant song lyrics. Anything from Tek's past perspective will be very report-like; he is a scientist in training in this story after all. I like to have the story told like the characters would say them out loud in conversation._**

* * *

_ Woken up like an animal,  
Teeth ready for sinking.  
My mind's lost in bleak visions,  
I've tried to escape but keep sinking._

_Limbs lost to a dead weight stake_  
_Skull cage like a prison,_  
_And he's lost faith he'll ever see again._  
_So may he once thought of me then._

_Underneath the skin there's a human,_  
_Buried deep within there's a human._  
_And despite everything I'm still human,_  
_But I think I'm dying here._

_Woken up like an animal,_  
_I'm all ready for healing;_  
_My mind's lost with nightmares streaming,_  
_Woken up (kicking, screaming)._

_Take me out of this place I'm in,_  
_Break me out of this shell-like case I'm in._

_Underneath the skin there's a human,_  
_Buried deep within there's a human,_  
_And despite everything I'm still human._

_I think that I'm still human._

_Underneath the skin there's a human,_  
_Buried deep within there's a human,_  
_And despite everything I'm still human -_  
_But I think I'm dying here._

_Daughter – Human_

* * *

Tek Residence, Kahler – _Present_

Kahler-Tek's POV

I... I'm too young to die. Alas - they gave me immortality, and I chose to so unceremoniously take it away. Maybe it is my time; maybe it is not. Ah, but the number of souls I have to carry on my back. It is unbearable to even fathom it! The lives I have destroyed – they are too many. And while it is rare to allow such a phrase to leave my mouth, dear Kahler, oh home planet, it is true. The truest thing I know.

There's something deeply wrong with that. The fact that the most solid piece of information in my cranial cavity it that I was a monster, albeit under force.

Suddenly I notice myself shaking, but it's not me. The ground is splitting in front of my eyes; I have a split second to contemplate this, when an ear-splitting explosion blasts me into the next world.

Ha. It _is _time after all.

* * *

Tek Residence, Kahler – _1800's_

"But darling – think about little Rek. He's not yet born! Please, Tek, _stay_. Stay for us. We love you," my wife Axx asked. I'd been so ignorant then. "No, dear," I'd said to her, "I must leave and fight, or stay and die. They'll make me strong, Axx. I will be able to protect you."

She had cried herself to sleep that night. Sometimes mothers do know best, and certainly not just in regards to their child. _Our_ child.

I approached the _Kahler Institute of Science: Weaponry & Experimental Military Research Centre_ with my chin held high. I'd worked as an intern researcher for about five years by this point, and the workers knew me well. Lenn from front desk smiled and handed me the necessary forms, which I then signed off and proceeded to the office of my superiors Kahler-Mas and Kahler-Jex.

"Ah, Kahler-Tek. So glad to hear that you've... _finally_ decided to join us in this noble cause," Kahler-Jex began with emphasis. Kahler-Mas nodded in acknowledgement. "Of course," I replied in the most respectful tone I could muster then, "which Kahler of good intentions would not aid their planet?"

I didn't realise the irony of that statement at the time.


	2. Kill For Who You Are(n't)

**_A/N: You are going to ship Texx so bad after this. Seriously. Feelings. Also I called the swirly face mark things defining-marks. And all the female Kahler have double letters at the end of their given names._**

* * *

_ Come as you are, as you were, _  
_As I want you to be._  
_As a friend, as a friend, as an old enemy. _  
_Take your time, hurry up._  
_The choice is yours, don't be late. _  
_Take a rest, as a friend, as an old memoria,_  
_Memoria._

_Come dowsed in mud, soaked in bleach,_  
_As I want you to be._  
_As a trend, as a friend, as an old memoria,_  
_Memoria._

_Nirvana - Come As You Are_

* * *

The days were mostly the same in the beginning. Testing, injections, training, home. Testing, injections, training, home. Testing, injections, training, home... The cycle continued for days and weeks and months on end, waiting, wanting more; we received no advantages physically or emotionally. Axx hadn't spoken to me properly for three months by the time my voice box finished forming. Rek was due in only a matter of weeks; yet I found that I struggled to care. That seemed strange. My son was to be brought to life soon, and yet it just seemed... normal.

Surely it would have occurred to me then that Kahler-Jex, who was in charge of Biological Alteration, was doing things to us that we didn't know about. Things we didn't _approve_ of.

After my artificial voice box ("To form an altogether more intimidating image," Kahler-Mas had told us) formed, my right eye transformed, then my legs mechanised, and finally, I went through surgery to amputate my left arm to be replaced with a multi-barrelled fully automatic assault rifle. Throughout these procedures I continually struggled to feel the emotions which used to plague my heart. I could no longer dote on Axx, I didn't care when Rek would be born, I didn't care about anything. I was numb inside.

Time blurred itself into a fuzzy sequence of repetition and hope and lies. We trained so hard some days our bionic legs would spark in protest; we kept going despite this, for the glory of Kahler. I don't remember much after that.

Except that one day I came to my senses. My left leg had fallen off again, and needed repair. Kahler-Jex had just started trialling new bionic limb prototypes – hazard a guess as to who they picked to trial them on? Me. I'd just arrived home when Axx slammed the kitchen door in my face. "We don't serve zombies here," she'd said coldly, but my bionic ears picked up the sound of the quietest whimper and her tears hitting the floor in an almost consistent stream. She was right, sadly. I was just like a zombie. Emotionless, replaceable limbs, and an insatiable need to spill the blood of my enemies.

A splitting pain in my head exploded then; it left me powerless, and I dimly felt my heavy machine body hit the living room carpet. Panic flooded my mind, and I shed a single tear – I wouldn't even see my son if anything happened now...

_Panic. __**Tears**__. _I was feeling again. I could still hear Axx crying her heart out in the kitchen – the image of a silken layer of tears covering her beautiful, swirling defining-mark was so vivid in my mind. The door opened, and she choked as she saw me lying paralysed by epiphany. I pulled myself upwards and fell into her embrace. "It's me again," I whispered to her, and she made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a wail before collapsing into my arms. "You've come back for us," she cooed in soft reply. My heart swelled for the woman before me, for our house, for the large bump that was her swollen stomach containing our son – but the hormone-blocker had begun repairing itself, and I pulled away from her, nodding to indicate it was beginning again. The look on her face could've cut a hole in a metal sheet.

I went to work the next day pretending nothing had happened. I was just another science intern who was being experimented on for the new army the Emperor had called to assemble to them. My hormone-blocker had fully repaired during my sleep, and I was ready for full integration.

All soldiers would be integrated into the main battalion after about six months, give or take. That's what Kahler-Jex said, anyway. We'd been good friends, he and I. Jex would always buy new toys and games for Rek – until he was put in charge of our training. That's when he started to spend more time with Kahler-Mas. From what I had seen, Mas was a cruel, sadistic creep of a man, and it's hard to cross me. He was famous for pouring his life's work into the perfect all-round torture/killing weapon. Blades, syringes, trip wires, acid, bullets, glass fragments, small rocks, hallucinogens, anything really. Mas was given the option of joining the Cyborg Project or getting thrown in the mental asylum for killing his parents as a kid – he picked the Project. He was always such a sensitive, yet condescending man. I struggled to get along with him, even after I became an experimental subject.

Then the Blacklists were handed out.

Blacklists were our only order and mission. As a battalion, we would fight and kill everyone (and everything) on our lists, striking through every accomplishment with a line of the victim's blood. We infiltrated the enemy as ordinary people, covering our defining-marks with special blemish cream and killing those on the list. We did not stop until the guts were spilled and blood was shed. We _needed _to feel the still-warm bodies in our hands. We desperately needed to be this way; none taking accountability, just bringing death and getting repair.

Then my hormone-blocker broke a second time, mid-battle. I saw the blood on my hands and the bodies by my feet, and I choked on the lump that had formed in my throat. I was a killer. I had _wanted _to kill. I'd needed to. I'd gone and slain hundreds by this point...

I'd forgotten I was fighting - the alien knifed me through the stomach, and everything went black.


	3. Communications

**_A/N: Sorry for not updating! Lost inspiration mid-inspiration, was awks and stuff. But here we are, me tucked in with the strongest cup of Earl Grey I could get from a single teabag in my TARDIS mug, you on your laptop or mobile, probably tucked in to your bed as well. This will be quite a sad, earnest chapter. Really long too! If 'experimental' violence frightens you this fic is perhaps not your cup of tea. (No pun intended, wow, I only just realised this after finishing the whole chapter). Another reminder of Tek's ability to make an exciting life moment duller than ancient Chinese history (I can totally say that, I'm Asian, don't hit me). I'm building Tek as a steady, sarcastic, but caring man of science and family. We'll discover his personal journey as the chapter progresses. I imagine his voice would sound something like Joel's, from The Last Of Us, maybe without the accent. But I like Joel's accent. He's sho badass ^_^ But here we go, a long overdue update with wayyy too long of an A/N._**

* * *

_Well you are my accuser, now look in my face.  
Your oppression reeks of your greed and disgrace.  
So one man has and another has not,  
How can you love what it is you have got_

_When you took it all from the weak hands of the poor?_  
_Liars and thieves, you know not what is in store._  
_There will come a time I will look in your eye,_  
_You will pray to the God that you've always denied._

_Then I'll go out back and I'll get my gun,_  
_I'll say, "You haven't met me, I am the only son."_

_Mumford & Sons – Dust Bowl Dance_

* * *

In enemy custody, location unknown

I awoke and shot up straight as a beam, immediately noticing I was chained to the floor with a long length of metal links. The room itself seemed rather like an Earth barn, hay strewn over the dirty stone floor, wooden trough on my left sitting right up against the brick wall. I could see that I had enough chain to reach through the bars, but not so much as to move past them. I would find that quite inconvenient afterwards when I tried to slip the keys out of the snoring cell guard's pocket. As you imagine, cue dramatic jail-escaping movie scene music, they jangled so much I accidentally woke him up, which resulted in my face being smashed repeatedly against the iron bars. That put me off attempting to escape for a little while.

I quite clearly remember sitting in my little cell, reflecting on my training and finding nothing to help me. It seems that they had not anticipated nor accommodated for any error. _A travesty of science_, I thought. _But that is Kahler-Mas for you_. I spotted a small, slightly rusted mirror by the sink at the wall to my right and dragged my heavy, clunky body over to it. Blood coated my defining-mark and armoury in a thick winter coat of burgundy, and my nose was dribbling blood. I splashed my face ten times to clear up most of the gunk and sat back down. If I was going to die soon, I would sure as hell be clean about it.

* * *

Kahler Jex's POV

I shifted my weight from foot to foot, standing awkwardly in the middle of the east wing's oldest lab. Wasn't much of a lab anymore, we used it for surveillance and collecting data. Dust had long before settled on the unused off-white benches, old Bunsen burners crying their own silent neglect beneath mesh-covered tripods. Kahler-Mas was due to meet me fifteen minutes ago, and I felt quite as if I'd been forgotten. _Insufferable man_, I thought bitterly. _He wouldn't know punctuality if it danced in stilettos on his nose_. I cleared my throat anxiously as he clopped through the doors, fearing that somehow he had heard my thoughts as Cuban-heeled patent leather dress shoes from Earth protested against the sterile tarkett. "Well?" I asked expectantly, rolling between the ball and the toes of my feet as he took his place watching the surveillance footage taken from the eyes of all the soldiers. He didn't even look up from the monitor. I pursed my lips and immediately relaxed my face. That was a nasty habit of mine that my co-workers had found patronising in the past. Definitely didn't want to do that around Mas.

"Listen Mas, if we're going to work together in _harmony_, you need to start communica-"

"Nothing to report, only one subject with concerning brain waves. I suspect it is Tek."

His voice was so dry and monotonous I almost didn't listen to what he said. I watched him, careful to keep my face deadpan as he swept the mouse to precise parts of the mousepad, clicking twice, then once, then presumably typing out Kahler-Tek's ID number. A routine check-up on the wellbeing of one of the most recently captured soldiers. They would be replaced within the next week at optimal speed.

Mas made a little 'hmm' sound at the data on the screen, and swivelled towards me sharply. "I think we have cause for some concern, Jex," he began, adjusting his position in the wheelie chair with great difficulty. Poor guy couldn't even reach the floor with his toes. As amusing as it was to watch my pretentious colleague struggle with a chair, the simplified pie graph results from Tek's last report left me frowning deeply. All soldiers sent a report giving their personal views on their physical and emotional state in the form of percentages to see how they compared to the brain wave stats.

_Kahler-Tek: Personal Mental Report_

_63% logical processing of surroundings and circumstance._

_*12% emotion – breakdown as follows: 8% resentment, 3% sadness, 1% hope._

_10% strategic processing of future action – breakdown as follows: 6% violent force, 4% waiting for execution._

_*11% suicidal thoughts._

**_All prohibited matter has been marked with a *_**

_Click here for Detailed Report..._

Mas clicked through without so much as blinking.

_Detailed Report: I'm sick of this, Mas and Jex. I'm sick of not being able to be sick of anything in any other way than simply mental. You took away what made us sentient creatures. I'm sure the others in the battalion will agree. I will get out of here soon, and I will kill you both. What an occasion to look forward to._

I let out a shaky breath. Tek spoke of many things in only a few lines, and I prayed to God our Heavenly Father that rebellion was not one of them. That was not a part of the agreement. I suppose that's just what happens when you skim-read contracts that binds you for life.

* * *

Kahler-Tek's POV

Not for the first time, I try to remember when I loved my son. My wife. My _life_. They were all the same, back then. But who was I to blame? I'd volunteered. All I knew was that if I got out of here (which I strongly doubted after a proper analysis of all independent, dependent and controllable variables) that I would _kill_ Kahler-Mas and Kahler-Jex; the men that brought half our population into the darkness as mere subjects with a smile on their goddamn faces.

After that, even my anger diminished. The hormone blockers had been upgraded in all of us, and it seems they had found the right model. This was good news for the Kahler Empire; not that we could get excited about that or anything. I would've rolled my eyes had I the attitude to do so as I filled out and sent another mental report.

_Kahler-Tek: Personal Mental Report_

_40% logical processing of surroundings and circumstance._

_*3% emotion – breakdown as follows: 2% resentment, 1% despair._

_17% strategic processing of future action – breakdown as follows: 15% waiting for execution, 2% violent force._

_40% suicidal thoughts._

**_All prohibited matter has been marked with a *_**

_Detailed Report: I have noticed a distinct increase in the number and intensity of thoughts surrounding the topic of ending my life, and how easy that would be. Amusing, almost. I am ready to be taken._

I stabbed myself in thigh again that day, and as per usual, I felt no pain. It was equally strange and fascinating to watch the vitality seep out of my limb with no pain or sensation to accompany it. Death held no power over me anymore. I watched with a blank expression as the night shift cell guard's lips screamed at me in slow motion, but I heard no words, just irrelevance. My face remained still as he slid the door open and lunged for my throat, shouting something about _what the hell was wrong with me_ and _bloody aliens don't know what the hell they're doing_. I might have found that amusing had I not the complete inability to react emotionally.

I continued to stab myself and the guard, mostly out of boredom. What else was there to do? And I rather enjoyed the sound of his gurgling on his own blood. Well, I was close to appreciating it. Once again, the inability to feel getting the better of my livelihood. How depressing. No pun intended. I clung to my dying morale with whatever strength I had left, but soon enough that disappeared too.

The consequent reports continued in the same fashion.

_Kahler-Tek: Personal Mental Report_

_24% logical processing of surroundings and circumstance._

_*1% emotion – breakdown as follows: 1% frustration._

_10% strategic processing of future action – breakdown as follows: 9.5% waiting for execution, 0.5% force._

_*65% suicidal thoughts._

**_All prohibited matter has been marked with a *_**

_Detailed Report: I will try to kill myself tonight, as I'd rather die by my own hand than those judgemental humans the aliens tried so hard to protect. I am also curious as to whether or not I have the capacity to betray my race like this, although I must add I have had my feelings quite removed by those same people. Therefore I revoke my contract as a soldier and a subject for the Kahler Empire, and thus end my life with the next report._

I decided to ask a human guard to rip my organs out. Unfortunately, as I quote from them, "it is not in (their) contract." I briskly hung myself, which proved ineffective and only wreaked moderate asphyxia. This was a disappointment. The guard refused to harm me, so I tried it myself after sending my final report.

_Kahler-Tek: Personal Mental Report_

_6% logical processing of surroundings and circumstance._

_*94% suicidal thoughts._

**_All prohibited matter has been marked with a *_**

_No Detailed Report to display._


End file.
